


Alone Together

by coyotestiptoe



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Because a good bro will give your kissing technique feedback, Fluff, M/M, Practice Kissing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:22:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotestiptoe/pseuds/coyotestiptoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they kiss is nothing more than a cosmic joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wanted to write about Scott and Stiles being one another's first kiss, which then resulted from spin the bottle and prompted a redo under the guise of practice. So with that said, enjoy the tropes~

The first time they kiss is nothing more than a cosmic joke. It’s just so intrinsically true to the nature of their lives that they’re invited to play a game of spin the bottle and land one another. It’s okay though, Scott thinks, because he didn’t want his first kiss with a girl to be under the guise of some stupid game and he’d never imagined kissing Stiles in the first place so there was no room for expectation to interfere.

It’s a brush of lips, as chaste as can be. They each sit back in the circle with scarlet cheeks and the backs of their hands washing over their mouths. When they glance at one another after its over they immediately glance away but later when its just the two of them its not so awkward. Stiles claps a hand on the back of his shoulder, says, “Well, if my first kiss had to be with a dude…”

And though he doesn’t say it Scott smiles half a smile and nods his head, agreeing “Me too.”

———————

The second time they’re both a little drunk. They’ve polished off a bottle of whiskey that Stiles found in the back of his kitchen pantry, wincing the whole time. It tastes gross which Scott emphatically points out no less than three times while Stiles makes exaggerated expressions of disgust. They’re sixteen and Stiles says sceptically ‘it must be an acquired taste,’ because his dad drinks it and he never makes a face.

Scott agrees easily and leans back against the foot of Stiles’s bed, staring unseeingly ahead. Stiles is flopped down on his mattress, head resting in the burrow of his arms a half foot away.

He blurts out, “Hey,” with a lazy tone and a slide of his vision. “You remember that game of spin the bottle?”

Scott sits up a little straighter, coming to attention. Quietly, cautiously, he mentions, “yeah,” letting the ‘you mean the time we kissed,’ go by unspoken.

Stiles scoots up to rest on his elbows and gestures randomly with his hand as he asks, “So, objectively speaking, was it, I mean, was I any good?”

Half a grin spreads across Scott’s lips and he says, “How am I supposed to know?” He’s sixteen, benched in lacrosse and can only mention one name when he lists his friends. Stiles is the only person he’s kissed and he doesn’t think that gives him any grounds to judge.

“Why?” he asks suddenly, panicking. “Was I really bad at it or something?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No,” he rushes to say, “no,” but then he’s smirking and giving a shrug of his shoulder, proposing, “A little shy about it, maybe” with an aloof wave of his hand. There’s a playful jeer in his grin that prompts a likewise teasing quality to enter Scott’s voice when he replies, “Well I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you more to your liking.”

Stiles remarks casually, “So you should be. It was my first kiss. You could have at least pretended you were into it, spared my feelings a little.” There’s an air of exaggeration about him as he speaks and Scott only shakes his head and challenges, “Whereas you totally swept me off my feet” a little sarcastically.

He lifts a brow and smiles at his best friend easily. Stiles smiles back and doesn’t say anything for a moment.

When he speaks again he sounds a little uncertain of himself, suggesting, “Could always go for a do-over. Bottle’s right there.” He brushes the remark off with a lazy smile, rolls onto his back and laughs to himself.

Scott doesn’t point out the slim chance that would be them landing one another again. Instead he proposes, “What? Like practice?”

Stiles hums, murmurs, “yeah, sure.” He opens an eye and lets it stray over to Scott, finds Scott looking back at him with his default smile. “Girls do it all the time right?”

Scott laughs. “Apparently.”

“Go on then” Stiles prompts, sounding more serious than he does joking. “Pucker up lover boy, sweep me off my feet.” Scott can see his lips quirking upwards with a grin.

“Isn’t it you that’s meant to be sweeping me off my feet?” He points out, not moving from his seat at the foot of Stiles’s bed.

Stiles heaves a sigh, exasperates a ‘fine, fine,’ and rolls off the edge of his bed to topple onto the floor next to him. He anchors himself with a hand on his carpeted floor, close to Scott’s, blinking in Scott’s direction.

“You sure you’re ready for this Scotty?”

Scott breathes out and arches his eyebrow once more, smile still firmly in tact. He doesn’t think Stiles is going to do it and then Stiles leans forward. He drops his mouth over Scott’s and kisses him with a resounding smack of their lips. The kiss is firm, over quickly. Scott’s blinking when Stiles settles back next to him and implores, “So?”

Scott takes a minute to pull himself together and answer smartly, “well I was already sitting down.”

Smugly Stiles quips, “I totally rocked your world.”

Scott looks away, because maybe he did.

———————

They carry on as normal. They don’t kiss again. In fact, Scott kisses Allison for awhile until they break up, and Stiles sort of kisses Lydia once but notes that it doesn’t really count even though Lydia totally kissed him and not the other way around.

Stiles does start thinking about kissing boys, generally, and mentions it to Scott. Scott gives a nod of his head, says, “you should be with whoever you want.” He still thinks about kissing Stiles sometimes, but he doesn’t mention that.

They’re friends. That’s all. He’s in love with Stiles in a totally bro way. He doesn’t dwell over Stiles’s wayward comments.

(This newfound heroism is making me very attracted to you.’)

Maybe he does a little. It’s nothing.

———————

It’s definitely something when Scott shows up with chinese food and Stiles looks at him so gratefully that Scott’s grinning in return. Stiles is going on about Scott being a life saver when he grasps his best friend’s head and kisses his face dramatically. His mouth grazes the corner of Scott’s and Stiles backs off as if their mouths didn’t just touch.

He empties Scott’s hands and starts organizing things on the coffee table in the living room, is walking towards the kitchen to grab plates when he looks over at Scott quizically. Scott’s standing in the doorway still and Stiles calls out, “Bro, you okay?”

Scott snaps to attention, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and smiles, mentions, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Starved,” ploughing towards the food.

If Stiles really wanted to know if he was attractive to guys he doesn’t know why Stiles didn’t just ask him.

———————

Stiles has always been tactile, curling into Scott’s sleep sought embrace without hesitation. They had decided it was a hazzard of sharing a bed the older they got. Scott’s pressed against his back, hand low on Stiles’s stomach. It’s something that happens; gravity at work, they agree. It doesn’t mean anything.

But Scott comes to and registers their situation just as Stiles rolls onto his back. Stiles looks up at him with a sleepy smile and soft eyes, murmurs “’morning” and Scott thinks that it does, it does mean something.

His hand is low enough to feel the elastic of Stiles’s boxers beneath his fingertips and he wants to leave it there. Hell, he even thinks about moving it lower. Sheepishly he apologizes instead, makes to withdraw his hand with color blooming in his cheeks. Stiles closes his eyes. “’S not a big deal” he quips and Scott stalls his movement, feels his chest constrict when Stiles slips, “Feels nice.” He nestles into Scott’s pillow further and Scott quietly agrees, “Yeah,” catching himself before he leans over and kisses him though he leaves his hand against Stiles’s stomach.

Stiles falls back to sleep so Scott decides he might as well too.

———————

The second time they wake up they haven’t moved much at all. At a guess Scott would estimate that only an hour has passed. He opens his eyes to sunlight filtering in through a small gap in his curtains and Stiles looking over at him. He’s laying on his side, one arm curled between them. Scott’s hand is a warm weight against the small of his back.

Stiles looks a little pleased with himself when Scott realizes and bashfully intones 'sorry' once more. This time he moves his hand, shifts onto his back. Stiles rolls onto his stomach and perches up on his elbows. “Scott?” he says and Scott looks over at him acknowledgingly. “It’s not a big deal,” Stiles repeats, but this time he adds, “Is it?”

He looks so serious. Scott isn’t sure what to say.

He pulls the covers up over his head and groans. It takes all of two seconds before Stiles burrows down under the blankets with him and shuffles in close.He loftily calls out Scott’s name again and Scott turns on his side, facing him reluctantly.

“I think” Scott starts, lets his gaze flick upwards to meet Stiles for a moment. “I think I like you.”

A beat of silence passes between them and Stiles queries, “you think..?” He breathes out an audible sigh, lets his voice sing out breezily when he infers, “well there’s only one thing for it then, isn’t there?”

He’s grinning when Scott dares to look at him, dares to ask ‘What?’

Stiles settles next to him on his side, plainly ventures, “you’re gonna have to kiss me.” Scott balks, splutters when he opens his mouth. “Fine, fine” Stiles grins. He shifts forward, catches Scott’s wrist in his fingers and says, “I’ll kiss you then.”

And then he just does. He just presses forward and kisses him.

Scott gasps quietly against his mouth, cuts the kiss shorter than he’d have liked it when Stiles pulls back and eyes him carefully.

“So?” Stiles says. He looks impossibly smug, reminds Scott of their second kiss when they were sixteen.

Scott smiles, feeling better. “I think you should kiss me again. Make sure.”

“Right,” Stiles agrees, “Gotta sweep you off your feet.”


End file.
